


Sempiternal.

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Based (kinda) on the book Spontaneous, Childhood Varchie, Childhood bughead, Explosions, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Immortality, Kids, M/M, Teens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-29 20:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12092583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: ‘Betty?’ Jughead’s voice squeaked. His eyes widened comically as he stared at her, his lips twisted like he might cry. ‘Are you really going to do it?’ he leaned close on his knees, peering closely as seven-year-old Elizabeth Cooper held out her index finger. There was an excited grin on her face. She nodded, fiddling with her pigtails. ‘Do you trust me?’ she whispered.~*~When Jason Blossom exploded during AP English, sixteen year old Betty Cooper didn't think her day could get any worse. But when she sees Jughead Jones, a classmate, being shot in the head and killed- for him to come back to life minutes later, she was definitely wrong. Add a government conspiracy, eternal life- a childhood friendship stolen from her, and being on the run from people she thought she trusted- yeah, consider her life ruined.





	1. Red.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: hey guys it’s ya girl lauren WITH SO MUCH TIME ON HER HANDS with another questioning fic. (That new Riverdale trailer had me S H O O K by the way) Anyway, have another weird ass fic from moi. So I saw that new rick and morty episode with the ‘Immortal planet’ and my brain was like ‘hEY WHAT IF –‘
> 
> And this just happened. haha.
> 
> Enjoy? This fic will be from the perspective of the one and only Cooper gal. This is Bughead but also Varchie, Jarchie, Beronica- ya get the idea. 
> 
> Also I was listening to Bring me the Horizon’s album and the title just fits perfectly.

UNKNOWN: ‘Parker. Has the boy entered the school?’

UNKNOWN: ‘Affirmative, Mendes. Are we to proceed?’

UKNOWN: ‘Affirmative. Project S.E.M.P in 60....59...58...57...56...55...

 

 

~*~

 

_Paint. It was paint. It was paint. Oh god, it was paint._

When you’re drowning there’s no oxygen going to your lungs. Which gives them the sensation of  being crushed. That’s exactly how Betty Cooper felt when she heard the loud bang. She felt like she was suddenly fifty feet under water, anchored by a heavy weight pulling her down. The BANG followed closely by a tinning ringing in her ears, like a quarter been flung around in a washing machine. Then came the wet, meaty splash of _something_ hitting her face. She saw it in a swirl of dark red. Almost like a scarlet tsunami.

Trauma works in weird and wonderful ways. For instance; when Jason Blossom quite literally exploded right in front of her eyes, a part of Betty’s mind was still trying to register the question Mr Tate had asked the class only seconds before, while the other part of her was screaming the word _paint_ over and over again. Until it almost seemed believable.

It felt like she had been hit in the face with a full bucket of paint. It had the same thick consistency, slowly dribbling down her face. It stuck her hair to her cheeks. She tasted it on her lips, it smeared her eyes so her vision was blurred a deep red crimson. But she was sure, absolutely sure, that the _paint_ splashed all over her eyes, dropping from her lashes wasn’t obstructing her vision. She saw it as clear as day. Right where Jason Blossom had been sitting, moments before, was nothing. He left nothing behind, and what he _had_ left behind now covered her and her classmates in what looked like a scene from _Carrie._

Except they were _all_ Carrie.

 The teacher still stood at the white board, marker in hand, the nib halfway through writing a homework task. Betty half wondered why Mr Tate hadn’t dropped the marker as the man stood, his expression blank, eyes unseeing at the spot where Jason Blossom had been.

His face was dotted with crimson. The teacher had been right at the front, so he didn’t get the full experience like his fifteen students. Who were also frozen, like Betty. In catatonic shock.

It had been exactly 3.5 seconds since Varsity team captain Jason Blossom had blown up. Time was a strange thing. Sometimes it felt like you were stuck in it, and others; time seemed to pass quickly. But in this circumstance, time itself seemed to stop. Betty Cooper found herself in a mirror-world of exactly the same time, the same place. Except everything and everyone had just...stopped. For a second at exactly 1:33pm in Mr Tate’s Advance Placement English class – the world simply came to a halt the very same moment a chunk of Jason Blossom’s skull landed on Veronica Lodge’s desk.

Betty’s mind was on fire. Questions battered her subconscious as she sat very still in her seat and stared straight forward. Where Jason Blossom _had been_ only seconds before. She definitely had the unlucky break having to sit behind the boy who detonated in the middle of AP English. But _how_ had he detonated? Could human’s just...explode? Betty felt more questions slam into her, as her brain set itself into overdrive. Though she couldn’t move. She wondered, right in the back of her mind, past the internal screeching and overwhelming urge to throw up, if that was her way of coping with trauma. Because she couldn’t move. Even if she wanted to. Her entire body was numb.

 Though it wasn’t just her who bore the brunt of the horror. Without looking around, and from the silence, even if Betty was frozen solid, petrified to her seat, she knew she wasn’t the only one covered in what she was going to call _paint_ just to keep herself calm. The classroom resembled a Tarantino flick. _Paint_ was splattered all over the walls, the ceiling the door, the desks- floor- everywhere. Though her slow mind was yet to register that she too, was covered head to toe in _paint._ She felt it coating her face, dripping from her blonde hair. Betty still held her pencil in her hand. It too been decorated with Jason Blossom’s _paint._

_‘Now if you all take a look at the worksheet in front of you, it says the following; In context, the underlined phrase “Wild Beasts” in the paragraph is used for what purpose?’_

Mr Tate’s voice seemed to be on a loop in Betty’s mind as the question bombarded her, glued itself into her mind and demanded to be answered. Betty blinked, and then blinked again. Yes, this really was happening. She hadn’t imagined it. Though she’d have to have a pretty sadistic imagination if this was her way of day-dreaming. Betty stared hard at the textbook in front of her. Blood roared in her ears from the silence that had enveloped the room, almost as if the fifteen of them had entered a vacuum. Betty felt like she was stuck in a slow-motion cut. Because nobody was moving. Not even herself. She only continued to stare down at the book. At the pages that had been soaked a gory scarlet. She noticed little bits of pink fleshy substance covering her notes. Paragraphs and paragraphs of writing she had spent ages scrawling were ruined by bits of Jason Blossom’s brain matter.

Betty could slowly feel herself coming out of it. Time seemed to speed up the more she realized how filthy she suddenly was. But it was red. Everywhere, everything was drenched in a startling red that glinted from the sunlight reflecting from the windows. It didn’t seem real. The sun was out, shining brightly in a crystalline blue sky. Though there was so much- so much _paint_. Betty felt a scream clawing mercilessly at her throat. She was conscious enough to understand what had just happened in the amount of time it took for Jason Blossom’s fleshy matter to decorate every other kid in her class.

Betty ended up staring at the back of Jughead Jones' head as he too- simply gazed, expression blank, at the whiteboard. Betty felt like he too was trapped in a trance. Where he couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. Jughead was sitting in the middle, so he too had ended up getting the worst of it. With him only being a few seats in front of Jason. His face was splotched scarlet. His dark hair seemed to have mostly escaped the onslaught, since it was tucked under his signature crown beanie. Jughead seemed, for the most part, completely frozen.  But there was a fleshy mass of _something_ on his desk that would sooner or later bring him out of it.

Betty finally managed to get a hold of herself. Get a hold of the situation. That was the exact same moment Reggie Mantle let out an ear-splitting yell. Which seemed to snap everyone out of it. Time sped up and Mr Tate dropped his marker. Jughead broke out of his trance and seemed to finally notice the bloody mass on his desk. He skirted back on his chair with a strangled cry which symphonized with the scream that ripped from Veronica Lodge’s mouth. That was when kids started to freak out, Betty included. She took one look at the mass hysteria which started to build around her as her classmates erupted into a cacophony of screams- and she felt her throat start to close up, her chest tighten. She felt bile crawl up her throat when she _felt_ it. Covering her. Painting her. It was in her eyes, her mouth, her ears. She was covered head to toe in Jason Blossom.

Betty started to scream.

~*~

_Chapter 1_

There are only certain things school teacher’s could deal with. Bullying? Easy. Some student bringing a knife to school? Suspension. But a kid blowing up? It was no longer in their hands. Within minutes of the explosion, The Centre of Disease Control and Prevention had the school on lock-down. Men and women in visors lined the corridors of Riverdale high making sure no student, parent or teacher got in or out.

Time passed as though it were sand grains dripping through an hourglass, hazing the group of teenagers into a numb silence. Each and every one of them were internally digesting what had happened earlier in the day, not quite grasping the reality now that law enforcement had arrived and their corridor had been taped off. Curious students had long since dispersed, turned away with deep-set frowns and warnings of prosecution should they take photographs or post online. In the most coherent depth of Betty’s mind, she mused that their threats fell on deaf ears and would be ignored.

 After all, if this had happened to somebody else - she would want to know, in fact, she’d probably have called her Mom for live updates. Betty sighed. She knew it was somewhat unfair of her to wish this experience on more than those who had had to live it but she would give anything to not have been in that classroom, to not still be sitting in a dim lit corridor with Jason Blossom’s blood drying on her skin. She was beyond exhausted, so much that she doubted there was an actual word. If there was, she was too far gone to think of it. Her shock had been, well - exhausting - enough but once she realised the sun was setting, that the day was turning into night; she felt as though weeks of energy had been stolen from her. And it still wasn’t over. Dread was swarming every cell inside of her, reminding her that what had happened today - what had happened to Jason; it wasn’t going to go away. She wasn’t going to wake up in the morning and go to school, she wasn’t going to sit opposite her friends at lunch and laugh about the newest mishaps; she wasn’t going to feel happy in a long time. It was terrifying.

Betty wasn’t allowed to get changed. They didn’t even let her wash the remnants of Jason Blossom from her face, from her hair- her eyes, blouse- shoes. Apparently it was for evidence. But wasn’t the so-called “evidence” splattered on her English classroom’s walls? On the floor and the desks? Betty had found herself unable to stop trembling. But that wasn’t exactly abnormal. She wandered around as if in a daze. Her phone was in her hand, squeezed between scarlet fingers. When she bothered looking down at the screen, it had been smudged ruby red from her filthy fingers. She wanted to do something. Anything that was normal. She wanted to scroll down her Facebook feed, watch a YouTube video. But her fingers wouldn’t physically move, never mind tap the screen. She ended up staring at her phone book. Her mom was at the very top of the list. Though what was she supposed to say when her mother picked up?

_Hi mom, I’m covered in Jason Blossom. I smell of him. I can taste him. He’s all over me, mom. He’s in my hair. He’s splattered all over my face, my skin. My body-_

Betty felt her stomach catapult into her throat. Her eyes stung and her mouth watered. She so desperately wanted to throw up, but she had tried multiple times. She couldn’t.

What she really wanted to do was ring her mom, and cry into the phone. Maybe even scream. She wanted to have a full blown mental breakdown right there in the corridor, in front of her classmates, as she sat slumped against the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her. Betty had spent the last god knows how long meticulously scanning her ballet flats. They had been a rose-gold colour. A present from her older sister Polly for her sixteenth birthday. But now they were unrecognisable, having splashed through puddles of gore in the classroom. Betty lay her head back against the wall and simply _stared._

She was tired. She was so, so tired. The idea of a warm shower where she could just flush her skin, scrub at it until her flesh was red raw. It felt so real in her mind, she could almost feel the water trickling down her face, washing away the blood down the drain.

 Most of her class had opted in sitting on the floor, too. They caused dark red smudges and smears on the marble flooring as some of them lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling, as if questioning the universe. Betty felt like she was in kindergarten again. Reggie Mantle and Archie Andrews were lying on their fronts, faces planted in their bloodied jersey’s. Archie was a natural red-head, so it was ironic that his ginger hair was streaked a darker claret.  

 One thing Betty _had_ noticed in her impenetrable mind fog, was that Jughead Jones, one of the kids in her class, had sat next to her. He too had lay his head back. His hair had been matted with blood. He wasn’t wearing his beanie. He clutched it to his chest like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. The boy had simply came over and slumped on the ground next to her, bringing his knees to his chest. She had never seen him so vunerable. He had been the class clown, the kid who made jokes to get a laugh from everyone. But he had been completely silent. The boy, like everyone, had his own private detail of Jason Blossom etched onto him. With Betty, it was her hair. She had felt it congealed into her scalp, into every individual strand. But with Jughead, it had been his skin. She didn’t think there was one patch of his face that wasn’t dyed a dark claret.

 Betty had been conscious enough to notice how close they had been, touching shoulders, as if the boy had been slowly leaning into her for comfort. Like Betty, he too had simply _stared_ at nothing in particular. His grey eyes pinpointed on some random kid’s locker opposite them. None of them had spoke. Though really, what would they have said?

Eventually, Betty and the other kids had been escorted into an empty classroom where multiple officers in hazard suits were setting up a huge yellow tent with a circle of plastic chairs situated inside.  Officers were stationed at the door, leading Betty’s traumatised classmates into the tent and getting them settled.

 Betty expected screaming and crying sooner or later. Surely someone was going to break. They were all covered in the kid. They shared his blood drenching their hair, clinging to their clothes. But her classmates were sitting in their designated chairs, completely silent.  It had been half an hour since Jason Blossom had detonated like a bomb. Since the police had arrived, and officially (with sickly faces) handed the investigation over to the CDC.

 Betty could still feel his blood on her skin, ground into her fingernails. She had done her best to scrape her hair into a pony-tail away from her tainted face, but when she wasn’t concentrating on something else- that wasn’t the fact that bits of the boy were still stuck to her blouse- she found her hands clawing at hair, as if to rip it out. Rip it all out. Every single strand.

Betty found an empty chair and flopped into it, her stomach cartwheeling.  Her phone was still in her hands. She squeezed it between her legs. Chafing it against her ruined jeans. When everyone was seated, a man in a pinstriped suit walked in, clearing his throat.  He looked to be Betty’s father’s age with greying hair. Two soldiers stood either side of him.

 Mr Tate, who _had_ been allowed to change clothes and wash Jason Blossom off of him, was at the back. He was standing stiffly against desks that had been pushed to the back of the tent to provide room.

‘Sophomore’s.’ He addressed them with beady narrowed eyes. His voice reminded Betty of a Looney Tune character. Though she couldn’t place which one.

‘We are the Centre for Disease Control and Prevention.’ He said. ‘Now I know you’re all feeling very overwhelmed and upset right now, so we’re going to try and get through this as quickly and safely as possible.’ he nodded to one of the soldiers before clearing his throat and folding his arms. ‘We’re conducting a full investigation into this tragedy, and after doing a sweep of the scene we’ve found something that may be alarming. But please stay calm.’

Betty flinched. It was the first reaction she had had since the incident. In a way, she felt better. She felt less inhuman. She noticed the others, who had until then, looked like lifeless mannequins. But they each seemed to flicker back to life, leaning forwards in their seats.

The man paused for a moment before delivering the onslaught;

‘We have reasons to believe when your classmate Jason Blossom ruptured this afternoon, he had a certain chemical inside him that now unfortunately blankets you all, and...’ he grimaced a little, fidgeting with his hands.  ‘It is significant evidence, so right now we urge you, as uncomfortable and upsetting as it is- to not change or tamper with your clothing.’

Betty stared hard at her filthy jeans and imagined a radioactive chemical eating away at the material, chewing through skin and bone- slowly poisoning her silently. It was too late to freak out. She had been covered in Jason for what must been hours. She had already breathed it in, let it soak through her clothes. It was on her face, her hands. There was no escape.

Betty’s heartbeat quickened. Her hands twitched in her lap. She suddenly wanted to tear at her clothes, pulling them off, ripping them from her tainted skin.

‘Also, it is vital you do not use your mobile phones. Right now, we do not want the public to panic. Please deposit your devices in the bag.’ The man said sternly. Just as he spoke, one of the soldiers pulled out a clear plastic bag from his pocket and pulled it open, before going around the circle. Betty watched kids reluctantly drop their phone’s into the bag.

Betty shivered. There was no way she was handing her phone over. She needed communication with her mom. She still clasped it between her legs and let it drop silently on the chair. When the man reached her, she felt her chest tighten. He stared down at her through his visor with cold steely eyes. ‘Phone.’ He grunted.

Betty shook her head, trying not to flinch when strands of her hair scathed her lips. ‘I don’t have it.’ She whispered. Her voice was choked, since she hadn’t used it in a while. The man glared at her for a second, and she felt herself sinking lower and lower into the chair. She felt her phone bump against her thigh when she fidgeted. The man stood over her for another agonizing moment, before nodding and moving on.

Betty didn’t dare let out her breath until the man was halfway around the circle. The soldier retrieved everyone else’s phone before situating himself back beside Pinstripe.

 Finally, someone broke the silence.  Veronica Lodge, sitting a few spaces away from her, spoke weakly. She too had tied her hair back. The girl sat cross legged on her chair, shaking like a leaf. The blue summer dress she had flaunted this morning while strutting down the corridor with Josie McCoy and Melody Valentine, was stained a revealing  dark red. Her voice was shaky. She fidgeted with the folds of her ruined dress in her lap, yanking and pulling at it relentlessly. ‘What do you mean “chemical”?’ she whispered at first. But her voice grew louder and more hysterical.

Was that the chemical that made Jason explode? Betty felt the question on her lips, but her throat was too dry. She didn’t think she could speak even if she tried to. But the thought of being covered head to toe in whatever had made Jason Blossom spontaneously combust made her feel sick. She grabbed the sides of her chair and squeezed so hard the edges sliced into the flesh of her hands. It stung, but she welcomed it.

The man frowned at Veronica, as if not knowing how to reply. He shook his head. ‘We can’t share the current information we have. But we are confident this is not an act of Biological terrorism. When we did a sweep of the scene we found a certain chemical substance that,’ the man seemed to be stumbling over his words. ‘It could be harmful.’ He finished grimly. There was a moment of silence where Betty swore she heard every individual catch of breath. She didn’t look up from her lap. The man continued to speak.

‘Now, I know you’re all scared and want your parents. But we need to check you all individually to see if you have been contaminated.’ The man seemed to soften his tone as he finally looked at the circle of dead-eyed teenagers who were either staring at the floor or alternatively, themselves. Kevin Keller who sat directly opposite Betty was frowning down at his copper coloured hands, his lips set in a permanent grimace, as if he thought he too was about to greet an unfortunate fate. ‘There’s no reason to panic, this is pure speculation. We have to take precautions for your safety. ‘ the man said, before gesturing to the door. Betty followed his gaze. ‘I’ll leave you in the hands of the school councillor, Miss Kramer.’

Miss Kramer walked in, and Betty could tell she had been crying. Betty felt a spike of sympathy for the woman. She could deal with the usual teen problems; depression, bullying, anxiety. But how the hell was she going to talk to fifteen kids who had just experienced their classmate explode? And were now covered in him?

 Miss Kramer’s  eyes were red raw, her cheeks pale. But she was forcing a smile. Her voice was shaking. ‘Okay, kids.’ She addressed them like they were seven year olds, but Betty found unusual comfort in it. They kind of _were_ seven year olds at that moment. Just a group of scared kids. Miss Kramer clapped her hands together. ‘Okay, so the CDC are going to take you to be examined one by one just to check you’re okay. The order you get called out will be completely random. Then we can get this all over with and go home, okay?’

There was no answer. The teacher sighed. ‘Look, I can’t make this better for any of you. It’s out of my hands. But I _can_ make it somehow tolerable. Okay?’ She was putting on a voice you might put on for your baby. The man rolled his eyes. ‘Answer your teacher.’

Something about the man’s voice was controlling and had Betty weakly nodding her head. There was a barely audible acknowledging noise from the fifteen of them combined.

Miss Kramer nodded. ‘Okay!’ she said, a bit too happily. She turned to the man, and started to talk in hushed whispers, before darting out of the classroom. The man cleared his throat once again. ‘Can the students Liam Stewart, Midge Klump and Archie Andrews please follow me.’ He walked over to the door, and one by the one the chosen kids stood up and followed him. Liam, who looked like he’d just woken up, Midge sobbing quietly and Archie; his head of red curls bowed. Liam and Midge exited the room, quickly following the man, though Archie lingered for a second, as if he didn’t want to follow. But the man seemed impatient. He frowned at the boy. ‘Mr..?’ he glanced at Miss Kramer, who supplied his name. ‘It’s Andrews.’ She murmured. The man nodded. ‘Mr Andrews. Please follow me.’

Archie looked like he might argue. It was the first real flicker of life she had seen in any of her classmates’ eyes. But he only nodded silently and allowed the man to escort him outside. Once they were gone, Miss Kramer came back in and let out a breath of relief. Only 12 more kids to go. Betty thought. Then she could go home, cry herself to sleep and resign the next day.

‘Okay, I was thinking we could pull out the old VCR?’ Miss Kramer was grinning so much Betty thought her jaw was going to concave. Betty thought she was joking, but when the teacher rolled out the old chunky TV and dusty VCR, dragging it so the fifteen of them could see the screen, she almost laughed. It got more surreal. Miss Kramer flicked on the TV and static splurged the screen. She had switched off the lights, leaving the circle of teens confused, their scarlet faces flickering from the static. Betty felt herself finally slump into her chair, her stiff joints finally relaxing. If she was going to die, it would be the perfect moment.

Miss Kramer ended up putting an old episode of Bill Nye on, and it was so damn old the stupid thing kept getting stuck. But nobody complained. Betty noticed there were soldiers standing by the door. Her stomach clenched. They were a group of traumatised teenagers, what the hell were they going to do? Betty forced herself to ignore them, and she focused on the television. But the  dancing static bouncing around the dark room from the screen was giving her headache. Her classmates were silent as fifteen blood-spattered faces stared blankly at the display. It was something to watch, even if they weren’t technically watching it. Betty watched Kevin Keller plant his head in his lap. Some others were copying, but Betty and a few others actually started to watch the VCR. Betty grimaced when the intro started, an explosion of dizzying colours and different species flashing onto the screen.

‘I never realized how brainwashing the main introduction was.’ A voice murmured dreamily. Betty tore her gaze from the VCR and turned her head curiously, to see who was sitting beside her. The television flashed brightly, illuminating the dark room – and the guy’s face. Jughead Jones. He wasn’t looking at her, instead his eyes were on the TV screen. He still had a tight grip on his beanie, pressing it to his chest as if it was sacred. Betty found herself at a loss for words. Was he talking to himself? Wasn’t that a sign of trauma?

Betty found herself mentally singing along to the theme. It was so catchy. Though at the back of her mind, she knew it was her mind trying to _deal_.

‘Bill, Bill, Bill, Bill!’ The chants sounded almost hypnotising. Her lips started to mouth the word _Bill_ as the theme thrummed in her ears. Maybe Jughead was right.

Jughead continued to stare at the screen, his eyes blank and unseeing. She was positive he wasn’t actually watching it. But to her surprise, he chuckled. He actually chuckled. His gaze slid from the screen before landing on her. ‘Isn’t this weird?’ he murmured, his gaze returning to the flickering TV. ‘We’re all sitting here watching Bill Nye, and Jason Blossom is dead.’ His tone darkened. ‘He’d dead. He’s- he’s all over me- in my hair, on my clothes, my-my fucking beanie,’ his voice was starting to shake. ‘And we’re watching Bill Fucking Nye.’ He let out a startling laugh, which caught her off guard.

If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything. Not even Miss Kramer and Mr Tate who were talking at the back. Mr Tate’s voice was a garbled hiss, as if he was seconds away from hysteria.

Betty didn’t know what to say. ‘Yeah.’ She found herself whispering back. ‘It’s pretty fucked.’ Jughead didn’t look away from the screen. He simply nodded once. ‘Yep.’ He popped the P. He leaned further into his chair, and continued to “watch” Bill Nye, but even without speaking, Jughead was calming her nerves. He was exactly what she needed, since he seemed to be the only one awake and not too traumatised to speak.

Betty turned in the direction of the door when Pinstripe walked in once again. ‘Next.’ He said, over the sound of excited children’s yells coming from the TV. ‘Can Kevin Keller, Veronica Lodge and Forsythe Jones please follow me.’ He ordered. Veronica sprung from her seat straight away. Though she had to yank Kevin up gently. She jogged over to the door, dragging the disgruntled kid along with her who didn’t try to protest or argue. The two of them stood by the soldier’s on the brightly lit corridor. Veronica put her arm over Kevin’s shoulder, muttering something to him. He only nodded and bowed his head.

Pinstripe was growing impatient. ‘Forsythe Jones.’ He repeated. Betty waited for Jughead to rise from his chair, but he was still staring trance-like at the VCR.

‘Jughead, sweetheart.’ Miss Kramer spoke up. That seemed to finally snap him out of it.

Betty felt her heart sink a little. Forsythe was Jughead’s real name. She still had no idea why people called him “Jughead” it was a story he had never told. She couldn’t help watching him as he stood up with a grunt. ‘I should see how Archie is...’ he mumbled to himself, in that same dream-like murmur. Jughead and Archie Andrews, the red-head who still hadn’t returned from his examination (actually, when she thought about it; none of the kids had) had been friends since Kindergarten. Though  their friendship had fallen apart over the summer just gone. Archie and Jughead had returned to school three weeks ago and acted like the other didn’t exist. Archie started hanging with the jocks, and Jughead on his own under the bleachers, or more commonly at Pop’s, their local diner.

Betty wasn’t sure if the boy was delusional from the trauma or genuinely worried about Archie. Jughead gave her a half-smile. ‘Guess I’ll talk to you later?’  He mumbled. He didn’t wait for her to answer. Betty was still half convinced in Jughead’s foggy mind, _she_ was Archie. She watched him join the others, before walking off down the corridor.

When Jughead had gone, Betty expected Archie and the others to get back, as solemn and dead-eyed as ever. But they didn’t. The man came to retrieve more of her classmates and chairs started emptying significantly, but none of them returned. When it was just Betty and three others, Betty started to feel sick. She had watched what felt like fifty episodes of Bill Nye. When her head started to pound, Betty looked away from the television, her stomach rolling. She knew the feeling well. There was the unmistakeable sting of vomit in her throat and her eyes started to water. Remembering her phone, she dipped her hand between her legs and grasped it before pushing it into her jeans pocket.  Then she stood up quickly, keeping her head down, and made it to the door. The soldier’s blocked her way out. ‘Where are you going, miss?’ one asked. Betty swallowed hard. ‘I’m going to be sick.’ She whispered. The man nodded. ‘Alright. Sit back down and we’ll get you a bucket.’

There was no way she was puking in a bucket. She needed the familiar graffiti covered brick walls of the girls’ bathroom. ‘Please.’ She managed. ‘I’ll only take a second, I promise.’

The solider sighed. ‘Go.’ He grumbled. ‘I want you back in five minutes and if not, we’re sending out a search party.’ He growled. ‘And do not wash or tamper with your clothes.’

Betty managed a smile. Thank god they weren’t giving her an escort. She nodded promptly before stepping past the soldier onto the corridor. Once she was jogging down the deserted halls, following a long line of yellow tape marked BIO HAZARD her skin began to crawl. She wondered where the other kids were. Had they been sent home? The hallway leading to the girls bathroom was eerily quiet and it didn’t help that one of the overhead lights was flickering on and off. She started to feel better, since she was finally out of the stuffy tent.

Betty reached the Ladies and pushed her way in. She waned to go straight into a cubicle, bend over and puke up the measly cafeteria meal she had for lunch. But something made her wander over to the mirror. Stare at her reflection. Her gaze was suddenly on the faucet. The _drip_ of water suddenly seemed so loud as it hit the plughole. She didn’t recognize herself. Betty only saw what looked like a murder victim. Blood splattered all over. Jason Blossom’s blood. It painted her like a canvas. The cherry pink blouse she wore was now dyed a deep dark red. Betty began to cry. Softly at first, but the then she found herself running the water and grabbing tissues, soaking them and scrubbing at her face. But the blood wasn’t washing off. It was ground into her flesh. Marking her. But then a sudden thought struck.

She wasn’t allowed to wash herself up. She dropped the sopping tissue she had been using to violently scour her face.  ‘I’m okay.’ She sais softly into the mirror. She forced a smile, tightened her pony-tail and left the girls bathroom. She was trembling.

Betty started to pad back towards the classroom, but curiosity overwhelmed her, and she found herself turning on her heel and following the route to the nurses office instead. It was only down the corridor, and she could make an excuse that she got lost if she was caught. Something was nagging in the back of her mind. Where were Jughead, Archie, and the others?

The nurses office was right at the end of the corridor, by the chem labs. Betty was surprised how quiet it was. She wandered over to the door and peeked inside through a small glass window. Jughead Jones was sitting on an observation table, his legs dangling like a child, while a soldier wearing a bleached white lab-coat and a mask shined a light in his eyes. They still hadn’t let him change or get washed up. He was still in his bloodied clothes. His face was still streaked crimson, his dark hair flopping over eyes that stared straight ahead, at nothing in particular. Betty stood on the toes of her ruined ballet flats, trying to get a better look.

No soldier was in sight. Which set off alarm bells in her head for some reason. Why wasn't the nurses office heavily guarded like the classroom?

Betty continued to watch Jughead as the soldier poked around him with different medical instruments she didn’t know the name of. Though when the soldier pulled something Betty did _know_ from the desk draw, the alarm bells ringing in her skull became deafening.

Gun. Betty struggled to process what her eyes were looking at. She felt her entire body go stiff, her mouth run dry. Time seemed to falter before stopping completely. It was Jason Blossom all over again. Betty wanted to look away, but couldn’t. She watched the nurse raise the gun, and point it directly at Jughead Jones. Who was still staring absently at the wall. He hadn’t even noticed. _Where are the other kids?_ The question still strayed in Betty’s mind as she watched the nurse squeeze the trigger. The bullet penetrated his forehead before he could he even turn his head. _Dead_. Her mind murmured back. _They’re dead_.

Jughead went limp before falling back, and slipping off the table, landing in a heap. It went too fast. His eyes didn't roll into the back of his head, there was no cry from his lips. A scarlet puddle began to grow around him. He didn’t move. Of course he didn’t move, he was dead.

 Betty felt a shriek building in her throat, but she quickly gagged herself, and ducked onto the floor before the nurse could spot her. She was breathing hard. She curled her hand into a fist and bit down hard into the flesh of her knuckles to quench her cry. Jughead Jones was dead. She had just seen him shot. Murdered. He was- he was dead.

There was movement inside and Betty’s heart clenched. Without thinking, she darted into an empty classroom and pressed herself against the door, squeezing her eyes shut. Footsteps. Betty, being anchored by adrenaline, waited for them to fade, before she left the classroom and returned to the nurses office, her heart in her throat. Maybe she imagined it. She tried the door, and to her surprise, it slid open. Why would they kill a teenage boy and keep the door open?

Jughead Jones was still crumpled in a heap on the ground. Her heart sank. Real. It was real. His face was ghostly white, his lips pale, dark hair still ruffled, falling in his closed eyes.

Betty wasn't thinking straight. She knew that. But before she could resist, she was kneeling on the floor next to him and letting herself cry. Her chest convulsed as tears streaked down her cheeks. Jughead had died alone. Confused. Still in his own little world where him and Archie Andrews were still friends. Betty grasped for the boy’s limp hand and squeezed it tightly.

And then she remembered her phone. Betty let go of the dead boy’s hand and pulled her phone from her pocket. No texts or calls from her mother, which was beyond weird. She was still sobbing, shaking, as her trembling fingers managed to navigate to her phone-book. If an earlier version of herself could see her now. She was covered in the remnants of Jason Blossom, knelt over Jughead Jones, who, only a short while ago was smiling at her through a brave façade. Her classmates had been murdered, and she had no doubt she was next.

A sudden hand on her shoulder make her nearly cry out, and Betty whipped her head around, stumbling to her feet. But it wasn’t the nurse who shot Jughead. She recognized him automatically. Tall, handsome with rich red hair. His cheeks and forehead were still stained scarlet. Archie Andrews. Except- there was something different about him. Betty looked past the wild expression, lips twisted into a grimace, and her gaze landed directly in the middle of his forehead. Where a bullet hole concaved into flesh and bone.

Archie didn’t wait for her to react. He only grabbed her, yanking her up. ‘We’re getting the hell out of here,’ he gasped, before kneeling next to Jughead. ‘How long ago was he shot?’ he asked quickly. It was a very different Archie from earlier. The last time she had seen him, he had been speechless, shocked. His eyes had been blank. Expressionless.

‘What-  what do you mean?!’ Betty managed to hiss back. But she couldn’t exactly try and argue with logic when Archie had a gaping hole in his head. ‘He’s dead!’ she squeaked.

Archie didn’t reply. He only jumped up, and faced her, breathing hard. He gripped her shoulders, his brown eyes boring into her. This was Archie Andrews, the boy who had never  acknowledged her existence. Until now. Until he was standing directly in front of her with a hole in his head.

 ‘Betty. You have to stay calm.’ He said. But his voice was shaking, as if he too was on the brink of hyperventilating.  But Betty found it hard to breathe as she watched the hole in Archie’s head seem to – shrink? Get smaller. No, she wasn’t seeing things. It was disappearing. It looked like the boy’s flesh was knitting itself back together.

‘How..?’ she managed, trying to pull away. Her head was pounding as she struggled to process what was happening.  Archie shook his head. ‘No idea, but if I’m right-‘ he started to explain, but was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from behind her. Betty turned, heart hammering, to find Jughead Jones sitting up. His eyes were unfocused, confused. He frowned at the two of them and his fingers delicately danced over the gaping wound in his head. Betty stared, and tried really, really hard not to throw up.

‘Okay,’ Jughead said softly, and maybe a little hysterically. He looked sleepy, like he’d just woken from a nap. His cheeks had blossomed a lively rosy colour, his lips returning to a healthy red.  ‘Not to be dramatic, but didn't I just die?’

 

 


	2. Back when we were kids.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood memories burned away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: this idea started off 'lol Jason blossom explodes’ but it’s evolved into such an insane idea I’m in love with writing this omg.  
> While editing this: considering what I was writing about, I stood on a fuckin nail, and for like a few seconds when I was assessing the damage, I expected the cut to heal lmao. Thanks so much to all the readers so far! I really hope you guys like this bit :) We're delving into the past for some answers, and LOADS of new questions ;)

**Aged 8**

‘Betty?’ Jughead’s voice squeaked. His eyes widened comically as he stared at her, his lips twisted like he might cry. ‘Are you really going to do it?’ he leaned close on his knees, peering closely as seven-year-old Elizabeth Cooper held out her index finger. There was an excited grin on her face. She nodded, fiddling with her pigtails. ‘Do you trust me?’ she whispered. Jughead bit his lip, but after a moment he nodded, his eyes glinting with anticipation as he stared at the pin lying, spike facing upwards on the wooden floorboards of his Treehouse. Betty liked to think Jughead’s Treehouse was a sort of second home.

Betty hovered her finger over it. Jughead Jones gripped the sides of the knitted beanie which rested over his head of chocolate brown curls, as if to yank it over his eyes to hide from the sight.

‘Wait!’ he hissed. ‘Won’t it hurt?’

Betty nodded her head. ‘It only hurts a little, but you need to watch, Juggie!’ she squealed. ‘It’s magic!’

Betty Cooper was eight years old when she realized she could do magic. Not exactly like Harry Potter. She didn't have a wand or a spell book, but sometimes when she hurt herself- like a minor paper cut or falling off her bike and grazing her knees. She could do real, actual magic. Sometimes she could make the blood and the pain go away without a band-aid.

 There was only one person she could trust with her secret, and that was Jughead Jones. He was another kid in her class, who lived at the end of her street.

Jughead had been her best friend since the first day of Kindergarten. He had approached her awkwardly when she had been sitting on her own. Cheryl Blossom had stolen her milk, and she was too scared to ask for it back. Betty ended up drawing detailed pictures of Cheryl being eaten by a monster, with crayons. Betty had been ready to shoo away the strange kid with his ratty beanie and Spider-Man shirt way too big for him.

But there was something about his toothy smile as he handed over his own milk that made her drop the crayon she had been so vigorously scraping against paper to create Cheryl Blossom’s demise- and accept it with a small smile. Betty had to get used to his stutter. But as days went by as the two of them shared their milk and treats and created a collage of ‘Cheryl Blossom gets eaten by a monster’ The two slowly became close friends.

 Jughead and Betty had been inseparable ever since. They didn't exactly match. Betty was blonde pigtails and teddy bear tea parties, and Jughead was scruffy brown hair and rolling around in dirt. He was quiet in class. Except when he was with Betty. The two of them would giggle over the most ridiculous things and draw pictures and paintings of their enemies.

 But opposites attract. Jughead and Betty ended up spending every day together, either cooped up in Betty’s bedroom watching The Fox and The Hound for the hundredth time, or in Jughead’s Treehouse. That had been the first place Betty had shown the boy her magic trick. She had managed to steal a pin from her father’s garage and the two of them had knelt in front of the metal prong. Betty still hovered her finger teasingly.

Jughead had let out a breath of frustration. ‘Betty, stop teasing!’ he moaned, sitting back on his knees with a huff.

Betty giggled. ‘Just watch.’ She murmured softly, before grabbing the nail and sticking it through her finger. Jughead let out a yelp, his attention spiked. The boy shuffled closer to stare at Betty’s finger. The nail had gone straight through the appendage, bone and all.  Betty gritted her teeth. But she was still smiling. ‘See.’ She murmured, matter-of-factly. Jughead stared at the girl, his eyes wide. He had gone pale.  Without hesitation, Betty pulled the nail from where it stuck awkwardly in her flesh, and the screw slid out, its silver point smeared red. She held the point, dangling it before letting it drop with a metallic _clang_.

Jughead let out a shaky breath. ‘You’re crazy, Betty Cooper.’ He whispered, his line of vision on Betty’s finger as she proudly held it out in front of her. There was a small hole in the flesh, spewing scarlet. Jughead swallowed. ‘Your mommy’s gonna kill you.’ He murmured.

Betty giggled softly. ‘Watch!’ she insisted.

‘I am!’ Jughead stared at Betty’s finger. He frowned. ‘Betty, Nothing is happening.’ He moaned. The boy paled. He hated the sight of the blood, and there was a significant amount of it welling on the tip of her finger. Betty shook it with a frown. ‘It’s not working.’ She whispered, her blue eyes widening. She hissed out in pain before wiping the bloody cut on her baby pink dress. Both children seemed to come to the same conclusion.

‘Oh...’ Betty swallowed a cry of pain. ‘I think I might need a band-aid.’

They were in trouble. Or at least, Betty was. Jughead jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll get your mom.’ He said, his voice shaking. Betty didn't move. She was still staring at her finger, which was now bleeding heavily. Blood poured from the wound and tears filled her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. ‘Okay.’ She whispered. Betty held her breath. She would not scream. But the pain was intense. It felt like zillions of bees were stinging her at the same time. She’d had the misfortune of having a bee stinging her at the summer fair a year prior. She had kept a brave face but she wanted to scream and cry, battering the ground with her little fists.

Jughead made his way to the flimsy plank of wood they were using as a door. His legs were still shaking. He lowered himself, dangling a leg so he could reach the ladder. Betty was starting to tremble from the pain. ‘Don’t get my mom!’ she shouted. 'She'll be so mad!' Betty was so busy scrubbing her finger on her dress, ruining the material with scarlet stains, she didn't realize the pain had suddenly stopped. For a second, she was confused, before she looked down at her finger, and a sudden smile stretched across her face, her eyes lighting up. ‘Wait!’ she jumped up, her bare feet padding over the wooden planked floor. She bounced to the exit, holding her finger out. ‘Juggie, look!’ she squealed. But Jughead didn't see her miraculously healed finger, or the fact that she had grown so excited that she had miscalculated where the ladder was. She didn't have time to step back, because she was suddenly in mid- air. She only let out a squeak, before she felt herself dragged down by gravity, like a monster had tugged her ankle.

 Jughead had been halfway down the ladder, muttering about Betty being silly, and that there was so much blood, but Betty was suddenly falling in a blur of white and golden blonde, as she seemed to fly- for just a second. Jughead looked up, his eyes widening. But he had no time to shout or cry and catch her.  Betty landed on the ground below with a loud sickening thump.

‘Betty?’ Jughead’s voice broke and he twisted around on the ladder, looking down to see his friend lying on her back on the grass below. Her hair spread around her like a halo, and her eyes were open. But unseeing. Jughead started to panic, and rapidly climbed down the ladder, nearly losing his footing. When his own bare feet touched the grass below, he was kneeling next to Betty Cooper, who didn’t look right. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't saying anything. ‘Betts?’ Jughead whispered. He leaned over her, shaking. That’s when he saw the sharp rock jutting from just behind her head. She had landed on it.

Jughead found his fingers were suddenly smeared a dark terrifying red as they nursed the girl's head. Blood. He felt his tummy go funny. The back of Betty’s head was covered in blood. It coated her hair, staining her neck and the back of her dress. ‘No...’ He said softly. ‘Betty, stop playing games!’ Jughead felt sick. The sight of the blood made his head spin, his heart start to pound. He wanted to run.

The girl didn’t move.

‘Betty?’ He shook her. His voice broke. ‘No, Betts- Betty!’ Jughead started to cry. His breath caught in his throat as it closed up, tears trailing down his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around the small girl and hugged her to his chest. But she was freezing cold like a popsicle. The familiar feeling of warmth, of her breath on his face as she giggled, teasing him for having a big nose, was gone. She was still. Lifeless.

Jughead wiped his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his shirt and shakily got to his feet. ‘Dad!’ he cried. He started to sob, crying out for his father. But he knew FP Jones was asleep inside. He'd been working all night. Alice cooper, Betty’s mom, was all the way down the road. There was no way she would be able to hear him. Jughead cupped his mouth. ‘Somebody, please help!’ He screamed.

‘What’s wrong?’ A voice caught him off guard, and Jughead looked up, to find a boy peering over the fence of his garden. The boy had messy red hair and freckles. He was holding a football to his chest. Jughead recognised him automatically. Archie Andrews. The red-headed kid who lived down the road. He was the one who was always playing soccer in the street. 

‘Is she okay?’ Archie frowned, leaning over the fence.  Jughead couldn't reply and only managed to profusely shake his head. Archie’s eyes widened, and then he was rushing through the gate, tripping over his untied laces. The boy knelt by Jughead and was leaning over Betty. ‘Oh...’ the boy whispered softly, flinching away from the girl. Jughead nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘She’s dead.’ He whispered. Though after a moment, Archie frowned, cocking his head. ‘She doesn't look dead?’ he murmured. 'What's her name again?' 

'Betty.' Jughead whispered. He could taste salty tears on his lips. Hopefully Archie didn't think he was a cry baby. 

‘Huh?’ Archie's words hit him then, and Jughead opened his eyes, looking at Archie, who grinned. ‘Are you playing a game?’ he whispered excitedly. ‘ Wait, is it Doctors and nurses? I love that game!’

Archie was right. Jughead blinked away tears and found himself staring down at Betty Cooper, who was sitting up, rubbing the back of her head. She was frowning at the two of them, her eyes not quite focused. ‘What’s wrong?’ she mumbled.  Jughead didn't say anything, but he did lean forward and wrap his arms around Betty. Though the girl pulled away with a laugh. ‘We discussed this!’ she giggled. ‘No hugging! You’ll give me cooties!’ She started playing with her hair. Jughead didn't feel like telling her that her hair was covered in blood – yet. Instead, he leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. ‘Betty, you really can do magic.’ He whispered. She nodded excitedly. ‘I know!’ she held out her finger, which was as good as new. ‘Look!’ she smiled smugly. ‘No cut.’

Jughead found himself giggling too. He pretended not to see the scarlet smears on his friend’s dress, forehead and neck. ‘Can you teach me how to do it too?’ He murmured.

Betty nodded. ‘I can try.’ She grinned.

 Betty noticed Archie then, her expression morphing into curiosity. ‘Who are you?’ she murmured, shuffling backwards a little. ‘What are you doing in Juggie’s garden?’

 Archie seemed to get over his initial confusion. ‘Archie.’ He answered softly. ‘Archie Andrews. I live down the road.’ He said. Jughead nodded, finding himself grinning. 'I'm Jughead Jones, and this is Betty Cooper.' He introduced them. Betty smiled shyly. 'Hello.' She whispered, and then giggled. 'You're all freckly!' Archie grinned at the two of them, his eyes suddenly excited. ‘Is this a game?’ he whispered. ‘Can I play?’

 

~*~

 

~~PROJECT S.E.M.P.~~

**INTERVIEW NUMBER: 6**

**REF. NO: #42Y389U14-0-9-3**

{---}

Date: 05/12/2009

_Interview starts: 14:22pm_

**Interviewer:**  Mr A! What can I do for you?

 **F.A** : Approximately how long did you say it would take to work? My son is still falling and scraping his knees. He tripped down the stairs last night and I had to get him stitched up.

 **Interviewer:** Mr A, you have to understand. All the children will blossom at their own pace. It could happen to A tomorrow, or it could happen in ten years time.

 **FA:** A knows about AC’s daughter. It’s happened to her early, hasn’t it?

 **Interviewer:** Oh, really? Well, they’re children, Mr A. I’m sure they think she’s magical or something. [CHUCKLES] Children these days. They think everything is magical.

 **F.A:** But- but if A comes close to finding out what’s going on, when he gets older. Is there a protocol for that sort of thing? Can you- can you make him forget?

 **Interviewer:** Mr A, I can assure you- if A happens to come close to finding out- we’ll have his mind cleanly wiped of anything to do with AC’s daughter and FJ’s son. Is that understood?

 **F.A:** [SCOFFS] Not everything. I presume AC wants their childhood memories wiped too? J and A are incredibly close. I want it to stay that way. I just don’t want them finding out about S.E.M.P.

 **Interviewer:** As you wish, Mr A.

 **F.A:** Thank you. Uh- one more thing. When does this...when does this all begin?

 **Interviewer:** Ah, Mr A. That’s classified, I’m afraid.

_Interview ends: 14:29pm._

~*~

**Aged 13.**

Betty Cooper sighed in frustration. Her blonde ponytail which was tangled with Blue and Yellow ribbons whipped around in the wind as she planted one hand on her hip, pressing against her cheerleading outfit. She breathed heavily, out of breath from running. Betty had been so excited, she hadn't even thought to change out of her gym clothes. Cheryl Blossom was going to kill her.

 It hadn't been hard to find Veronica. Sweet-water bridge was only a few minutes away from school. Betty had taken off after the girl after witnessing something truly spectacular, followed by her partners in crime- her fellow musketeers- Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews. They had started on their bikes, but had to abandon them when they ventured into the infamous Sweetwater Woods.

 ‘We saw you, Veronica.’ Betty rolled her eyes at the other girl. Who refused to look at her. She tried really hard not to look down, yet she constantly found her gaze on the sharp rocks jutting from the gushing river below. Betty swallowed hard and clung on tighter to the sides of the bridge- which was long fraying rope. The four kids  were standing on the rickety bridge which hung over Sweetwater. It used to scare Betty and Jughead when they were kids. Now? Not so much.

Veronica Lodge, also dressed in the cheerleading ensemble, shook her head with a dismissive giggle. She stood on the side of the bridge, facing away from them. Her elbows resting on the sides. She was staring out into the bruised sky, which was starting to darken.  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She said. Her hair was tied in pigtails, also trailing brightly coloured ribbons which danced in the breeze. Then she twisted to face them, frowning. ‘Now can you guys go away?’ she gestured to the three others surrounding her. ‘I'm trying to think.’ She murmured, turning back to the sky.

Betty frowned at the girl. ‘Think?’ she repeated. ‘On a bridge?’

Veronica scowled. ‘Yes.’ She sighed, and then her eyes narrowed. ‘Did you guys follow me?’

‘Something like that.’ Archie Andrews scoffed a little. Betty nudged him, but he only giggled. He stood, casually leaning against the weak railings of the bridge. His red hair caught in the breeze, strands of it flickering in his eyes. His freckles were still prominent from childhood, still decorating his nose and cheeks. He looked Veronica directly in the eye. Jughead Jones stood next to Betty, his hand clasped in hers. He was still gasping from running after the girl. He didn't speak, only breathed heavily. Archie noticed, his eyes clouding with worry. ‘Jug, did you bring your inhaler?’

Jughead shook his head. ‘I’m good.’ He forced a smile, squeezing Betty’s hand. She squeezed it back. The two of them had become closer as they had grew up together, and had decided to become ‘more than friends’ even if it was just clumsy kissing and awkward hand holding at thirteen years old.

The two of them weren't alone though. Since Archie Andrews had witnessed Betty Cooper coming back to life at the age of eight, he had become the official third musketeer. The three of them were an unlikely group; Betty was a cheerleader for the Junior Eagles, and Archie and Jughead had developed an intense infatuation with video games. But they fit. And they all revolved around one thing; Betty Cooper’s supposed ability to never die or injure herself.

As the three of them had grown older, they had become more and more creative in ways to see just how far Betty’s immortality stretched. They had tried almost everything. When they were younger, it was small, insignificant things. Like drawing a needle against the flesh of her hand, trying to break her finger. But the older they got, the more dangerous their attempts became. At eleven years old, Archie and Jughead had watched Betty fling herself from her bedroom window, where she landed on her neck. They had heard the snap of her bones. She had lay there, crumpled in a heap. Betty had been dead for exactly 30 seconds, before her eyes were fluttering open, the colour returning to her cheeks. Every single time Betty Cooper died, she woke up to Archie Andrews and Jughead Jones wrapping their arms around her, thinking she was really gone. But that was only their tenth attempt. Now they were way past their hundredth, and Betty Cooper was their personal superhero.

  The sky was turning a sombre black. Betty clutched tighter to the bridge. She didn't want to think of how much strain the four of them were causing with their weight.

 ‘We know your secret, Ronnie.’ Archie smiled teasingly, his eyes sparkling.  The dark haired girl glared at him. ‘Oh, really?’ she folded her arms. Then she paused.  ‘So what if I made out with Reggie Mantle? We’re in seventh grade now, jeez.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Plus, we didn't...’ she screwed up her face, embarrassed.  ‘Do anything.’ She muttered. ‘Gross.’

 Jughead and Archie immediately blushed, and Betty let out a laugh. ‘Reggie Mantle?’ She giggled. Veronica smirked. ‘Because you can do better?’ Her green eyes strayed on Jughead, and his cheeks darkened even more. Betty felt his palm grow sweaty, still clasped in hers.

Betty rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t dodge the subject, Veronica.’ She muttered.  Jughead nodded, clearing his throat. ‘In gym earlier, you fell off your cheer-leading pyramid.’

Veronica nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, so? I was off my game today.’  

‘You snapped your leg.’ Betty said, softening her tone when Veronica’s eyes grew wide. ‘We saw it, Ronnie. It bent into the shape of an L and you popped it back into place.’

Veronica eyed the three of them defensively. ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She hissed. ‘But even if I _could_ do that, it’s none of your business.’ She turned and started to walk away, but Betty grabbed her gently, tugging her back. ‘Just watch.’ She murmured, before turning to Jughead. ‘Pin.’ She held out her hand and he nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small pin. Veronica frowned. She squeezed her arms against her chest, shivering from the cold. ‘What are you doing?’ she whispered. Though Archie only chuckled. ‘Wait for it.’

A tumultuous gust of wind rocked the bridge, blowing Betty’s hair back as she held out her hand and slowly drew the point of the pin down her hand. Veronica stared, baffled. But she didn’t run away.

Betty was used to the sting. She was used to the blood. Though even six years on, Jughead Jones was still afraid of the ruby trickle that slowly welled up on Betty Cooper’s hand. He took a small step back, screwing his face up and fiddling with his beanie which nestled over his dark curls. Veronica rolled her eyes after a second. ‘If this is some creepy ritual and you want me to do a silly blood oath-‘ she started to say, but the words caught in her throat when the cut on Betty’s hand slowly started to close up. Within a blink of her startled eyes, the cut was gone. All that remained was a scarlet smear.

Veronica held her breath. ‘How did you do that?’ She whispered, leaning forward and inspecting the blonde’s hand. Betty giggled when the girl grabbed her hand, running her sparkly fingernails up and down the flesh of her palm. It tickled. ‘The same way you fixed your leg.’ Betty smiled at the girl and winked. ‘Magic, right?’

Veronica didn't move for a second. Her gaze still stuck to Betty’s hand. Then she nodded and giggled softly and started to play with the ribbons knotted in her pigtails. ‘It started a few weeks ago.’ She murmured, her words flittering in the strong breeze. ‘I was washing up after dinner.’ She shrugged a little. ‘Mom always works late, so it was just me.’ Veronica sighed, her gaze going to her shoes. Betty noticed it had started to rain. She felt delicate drops of water dotting her forehead.

‘I cut myself on a knife,’ Veronica started to explain, but her next words were drowned out by roaring car engines. The four of them whipped around to see a familiar Blue Bentley parked awkwardly on the other side of the bridge, by the clearing. The headlights were blaring, blinding them. Veronica shaded her eyes with a scowl.  ‘Shit.’ Archie muttered. ‘Betty, it’s your mom.’

‘When isn’t it?’ Jughead muttered. ‘She’s like Godzilla.’

‘Elizabeth!’ The car door slammed and Alice Cooper climbed out, standing in the spitting rain. ‘Young lady, what do you think you’re doing? It’s not safe!’ She gestured wildly to the bridge the four of them were standing on. As if mother nature agreed, she unleashed another gust of wind, rocking the bridge once again. 

Betty sighed, rolling her eyes. ‘I guess I’ve gotta go?’ she turned to the others, but Alice Cooper had other plans. ‘Bring your friends!’ She yelled. ‘I’ll give them a ride home!’

None of them could say no to a cosy ride on plush leather seats. Betty jumped into the back seat of her mother’s car followed by Jughead, Archie and Veronica. Alice tutted at them. 'None of you are wearing coats!' she cried. 'Archie, I expected better from you.' He only rolled his eyes.  The second they were all inside, Alice Cooper reversed back onto the road, stamping the gas. Jughead leaned over, chuckling. ‘One day your mother is going to kill us.’ He smirked. ‘ _Us_ meaning me and Archie.’  Betty had to bite her lip to stop herself from  from giggling. If her mother had heard, she didn't say anything. Instead, Alice Cooper cranked up the radio and began humming to herself as she drove down the long, winding road leading back into town. ‘Oh, Hello Veronica!’ Alice turned, smiling at the girl, who was squeezed next to Archie. Veronica smiled politely. ‘Hi, Miss Cooper.’ She replied with a small smile. But her gaze was suddenly pointing at Betty was questioning. ‘How does your mom know me?’ she all but whispered. She suddenly looked wary. Frightened even. Betty shrugged. ‘No idea.’

‘Don’t look so surprised, honey!’ Betty noticed her mother’s smile was a bit _too_ big. ‘Hermione Lodge and I went to school together.’

‘Oh!’ Veronica nodded, smiling.  ‘Makes sense now.’ She said awkwardly, and Alice’s grin somehow got wider. Betty could tell it was no longer a smile. More like a grimace. She tried to think of anything she had done wrong. She was out in the rain without a coat. But surely that couldn’t be it.

Betty shivered. She regretted not putting on a jacket earlier. Her cheerleading outfit wasn’t exactly Fall material. Jughead noticed and leaned into her, the warmth from his hooded sweatshirt radiated against her skin and she smiled softly, letting her head fall on his shoulder.

Betty let her gaze linger as she looked out of the window. But her chest clenched when she realized they were nowhere near home. In fact, her mother was continuing down a road which seemed to go on forever. ‘Mom.’ Betty sat up, her heart suddenly in her throat. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Just a short cut, sweetie.’ Alice replied. Jughead seemed alert now. He sat up, leaning over Betty and pressing his face against the window. ‘Miss Cooper,’ his voice squeaked. Betty had noticed it had started to break over the last few weeks. Archie liked to tease him, though the redhead still sounded like a little boy, despite his growth spurt. ‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’

‘Jughead.’ Betty hated it when her mother said his name like it was a foreign word caught on her tongue. ‘Please don’t disrespect me when I’m giving you a ride home.’

Betty shook her head, the ribbons in her hair slapping in her face. ‘Mom, this is nowhere near home!’ she hissed. Veronica straightened up in her seat. ‘I’m okay from here, Miss Cooper.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘You can let me out now.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Veronica.’ Alice tutted. ‘Have you seen the weather?’ Betty shivered as she watched raindrops hit the windows, slithering down the glass panes. Betty nearly cried out when her mother stamped on the gas and the four of them flew back into their seats. ‘Betty?’ Archie hissed, his face was pale. ‘What’s going on?’ She had never seen him look so scared. Not even when she had chopped off one of her fingers. Though of course it had grown back seconds later.

Betty peered out of the windows, heart hammering, when she glimpsed a bright light in the distance. It seemed to be hovering in the sky. Her stomach lurched, her imagination already going into overdrive. ‘Mom?’ she managed weakly. When Betty squinted she realized the ‘light’ was actually a huge floodlight in the distance. Archie and Jughead noticed too, both peering out of the window. Veronica started to cry. Though Alice sighed. ‘It’s for your own good.’ She muttered, squeezing the steering wheel. ‘Veronica, Honey, your mother is here, don’t worry. All your parents are.’

‘What?’ Archie whispered, his face was still pressed against the window. The floodlights were getting closer, and seemed to be illuminating a base of some kind. There was a barbed wire fence around the circumference and what looked like army tanks parked in rows outside. Jughead was white, he looked terrified, but his lips formed a small smile. ‘Is this, like...Area 51?’ he murmured.

  Betty’s heart started to do flip flops. ‘Mom?’ she whimpered, and she was so damn scared, she forgot three other kids were with her. She like a little kid again. ‘Mommy, what’s happening?’

Alice sighed. ‘We should have wiped you when you were younger, but it was risky.’ She manoeuvred the car into a parking spot, and Betty sat frozen in her seat. The radio turned off along with the engine, and Alice yanked the keys from the ignition. ‘Please understand that this is for your own good.’ She said, twisting around to face the four frightened kids. She eyed Jughead and Archie. ‘Especially you two. You haven’t even blossomed yet. It’s too dangerous to be with the girls.’

Betty was struggling to understand the words coming from her mouth. _She knew_. The words battered her brain. Her mother _knew_ about her strange affliction – about Veronica.

Jughead and Archie were like her too? She caught Jughead’s expression. He looked ready to hurl.

The others didn’t move too. Archie and Veronica looked scared out of their minds. Veronica kept playing with the lock on the door, as if she longed to jump out. But the door was sealed shut. Betty longed to question her mother, but before she could pluck up the courage, Alice was letting out a soft sigh. ‘I’m sorry for scaring you.’ She murmured. ‘It just has to be done.’

‘ _What has to be done?’_ Archie mouthed.

 ‘Everyone out.’ Alice said, climbing out of the car. Betty had no choice but to follow. She was shaking as she slid from her seat and jumped out into the cold. Her mother was already hurrying over to her throwing a warm jacket over her shoulders. She shoved it away.

Jughead followed, fighting for her hand, while Archie and Veronica followed at a distance. Betty cringed when her gym shoes crunched on the gravel walkway and she leaned closer into Jughead. ‘She knows.’ She said softly, and Jughead nodded, his expression blank. ‘It’s okay.’ He murmured back, clutching her hand tighter. ‘Maybe we’ll get an explanation?’

  His gaze was soaking in the surroundings curiously. A strange army type base in the middle of nowhere. It definitely resembled Area 51. The complex was huge, with a parking lot lined with huge pick up trucks and more tanks. Archie ran to catch up with them, Veronica grabbing tightly to his hand. ‘They have tanks!’ he hissed, eyes wide. ‘Just like Call Of Duty, Jughead!’

Archie’s excitement didn't last long, however. He and Veronica kept hold of one another.

‘This way.’ Alice led the four of them over to a huge automatic glass door that led into what looked like a Hospital waiting room. Betty shaded her eyes, frowning. Everything was white. White flooring tiles, ceiling, seats. Jughead didn’t let go of her hand, even when his father came running over, followed by Fred Andrews and Hermione Lodge. ‘Jughead!’ FP Jones grabbed his son, yanking their hands apart. He was tall, clean-shaven wearing a plaid shirt. ‘Alice, I thought we agreed we would do this in the morning?’ he growled, wrapping his arms around Jughead, who fought for freedom.

'Get off me!' he hissed, fighting from his dad's grip and grabbing hold of Betty's hand once more. 

Fred Andrews came to kneel in front of Archie. ‘Arch, you need to understand that this is for your safety okay?’ The man said softly. Betty had always loved Fred. He was the dad she never had, his friendly face always welcoming her into the Andrews house since she was little. Though now Fred looked pale. Archie looked confused. ‘What are you talking about, dad?’ he squeaked.

Betty stood still, watching the boys talk with their father’s. Her mother stood by her side, and had a tight grip on her hand. Veronica was talking her a woman Betty presumed was her mother. She was in a bright yellow waitress uniform, her chocolate brown hair tied back in a ponytail. 'Veronica, Mija, come with me.' she murmured, an edge to her tone. Though Veronica shook her head, keeping a hold of Archie's hand, 'Not until you tell me what's going on.'

‘Yeah, What’s going on?’ Betty finally asked shakily. The place itself was scaring her. A military compound in the middle of nowhere- where people including her mother and her friend’s parents knew about her ability to come back to life. Betty could smell the tang of her mother’s perfume. Lavender. Alice cleared her throat. Though if Betty wanted answers, she wasn't going to get them.

‘Time to say goodbye, honey.’ She murmured. Her voice, even if she was trying to keep it emotionless, choked. Betty felt her chest clench when her mother pushed her forwards a little, to where Archie and Jughead were stood, their heads bowed. Veronica was already being pulled away by her mother. She had hold of Archie's hand, until her mother tugged her away. 'Archie!' she gasped. He only stared back sadly.

‘Bye Betty!’ the dark-haired girl yelled, her voice choking. ‘I won’t forget you, I promise! Ow, mom, that hurts!'

Though Betty knew better.

 ‘They’re going to make me forget you.’ Jughead said softly, and before she could reply, he was pulling her into a hug, while Archie hung on to the both of them. Betty felt tears well in her eyes, soaking his hoodie. ‘Why?’ she sobbed into his shoulder. Jughead pulled away, his eyes red raw. Archie held tight onto his hand. ‘They’re making us forget you, Betty.’ He said softly. ‘Forget everything.’

Betty suddenly felt incredibly lonely. ‘What?’ she whispered. ‘They- they can’t do that!’ She grabbed both boys tight, their heads knocked together as they pressed themselves into an embrace. ‘Mom, you can’t do this!’ she yelled. ‘Do you really expect me to just _forget_ Archie and Jughead?’ she let out a bitter laugh. She expected the boys to laugh too. But they only clutched her tighter.

‘Archie.’ Fred muttered. He held out his hand, and Archie nodded, before letting go of Betty and grabbing his dad’s hand. ‘See you later?’ He wiped his eyes, forcing a smile. Betty nodded, her eyes welling up again. Except she wouldn't cry. Archie Andrews, her best friend, her third musketeer, was about to become a stranger. And her mother didn't even provide an explanation except the usual ‘It’s for your own good’.  She watched him get dragged into a white room, and the door shut behind him. It was hard to even conjure the thought of not knowing him. Not knowing his red hair she liked to run her fingers through, or his freckles she and Jughead had played dot-to-dot on when they were little. But before she knew it, Archie was gone- Veronica, who she had barely gotten chance to get to know, was also gone. She was left with Jughead, and they didn't break apart until FP had to physically drag his son away. Betty was left crying into her mother’s chest. She refused to watch Jughead go. She would only hold happy memories of him. She _would_ remember him. His soft smile, his warm eyes and the way her stomach catapulted with new feelings when he first grabbed hold of her hand.

When Betty pulled away from her mother, all her friends were gone, and she already felt that deep cavernous hole in her chest. Alice smiled down at her. ‘Elizabeth, I want you to grow up and not be poisoned by these memories in your childhood.’ She said softly. ‘Archie and Jughead were part of them memories, so I'm afraid...’ Alice held her breath. ‘They also had to go.’ She held her breath. 'Veronica Lodge has only just blossomed. Her mother would rather she grow up not knowing you. As for Archie, his father does not want him knowing of this affliction until he blossom's.'

‘But why?’ Betty found herself yelling in her mother’s face. 'It's...it's not fair!' Sadness had twisted to anger, and it burned in her veins.  She gritted her teeth. ‘You knew?’ she narrowed her eyes in accusation. Tears streamed down her cheeks no matter how hard she tried to stop them. ‘You knew what I could do and you never thought to _tell_ me?!” she hissed. 'Do you know scared I was?' 

Alice glared down at her. ‘I did what I had to do.’ She growled, before grabbing Betty’s wrist roughly. ‘It’s time, Elizabeth.’ She murmured. Betty tried to yank away from her mother’s grip, but it was almost impossible. ‘I hate you.’ She whispered. Though Alice only chuckled. ‘Doctor Harmon is waiting for you.’ She said. ‘You’re  a big girl now, Elizabeth. Go inside.’ She gestured towards a door on the left. Betty folded her arms defiantly. ‘No.’ She said in finality. ‘You’re not making me forget them.’ she turned to dodge her mother and run outside, but the loud bang of a door shutting made her jump.

 ‘Mom, stop it, I'm fine!’ The voice startled her, and she turned to stare as Cheryl Blossom, still in her cheerleading uniform strutted from another one of the rooms. She pushed away her fussing mother, who ushered the girl to the exit. ‘Alice.’ The woman murmured, acknowledging Betty’s mother.

‘Penelope.’ Alice muttered. 

 Cheryl’s twin brother Jason was hurrying along behind, his gaze on the floor. Neither of them even glanced at her. Betty knew Cheryl well-  She was the scarlet haired captain of the junior cheerleading squad. Except the girl looked straight past her like she didn't even exist, and seemed  more preoccupied yelling about the rain. Jason lifted his head, peering through his ruby fringe. He cocked his head, a smile appearing on his lips when he saw the stormy weather outside. 

 ‘Mom!’ Cheryl cried, covering her red pigtails with her hands (as if that would help) ‘I'm going to get soaked!’ She moaned.

Jason giggled. It’s your fault for not bringing a coat.’ He skipped out into the downpour, seemingly unbothered. Cheryl rushed out to join him, squealing with delight when Jason jumped in a puddle. Betty watched them, entranced. Part of her wanted to go out and join them.

‘Jason!’ Their mother followed them, hissing in frustration. ‘Cheryl, get in the car! Jason, get off your sister!’ The woman wrestled with an umbrella as she ran through the automatic doors. Betty felt a breeze as the cold blew in through the doors, causing goose flesh to ripple up and down her bare arms.

‘Betty.’ Her mother murmured, snapping her out of it. She turned back around, opening her mouth to protest. She wanted to ask what the hell was going on, why her ability was known among the parents- and most importantly: Why was her memory being wiped? Could that even happen? But Betty took one look at her mother's narrowed Blue eyes, and all her fight disappeared. ‘Elizabeth, I wont ask you again.’

So many questions were battering Betty’s brain, but she had no time to assess them in her muddled mind. Her mother was already ushering her into the through the white doors of the room Cheryl and Jason had come from, and she found herself stumbling into a room so bright she could barely see where she was going. She tried backing out, but the door had slammed shut. She blinked rapidly, trying to see through the straining white light.

‘That’s right, Elizabeth.’ A deep disembodied voice was suddenly booming into her ears. She cried out, slamming her hands against her ears. 'Mom?!' she turned and battered the door with her fists, but there was no reply. The door itself felt- strange. Like she was pounding her fists against thin air. She suddenly felt dizzy. Her head was spinning, her stomach doing cartwheels. The room, no matter how hard she blinked and tried to clear her vision, it wouldn't reveal itself. She simply found herself standing in a flash of bright light. Betty took an unsure step forwards, shading her eyes. The strangest feeling came over her. It felt like the light was beckoning her. She took another step forwards. 

 ‘Empty your mind.’

 

~*~

Part 3 excerpt! (We go back to the present)

Betty wanted to freak out. But right then, she wasn't sure how.  She had already seen so much. Just hours ago, Jason Blossom had popped like a balloon, spewing her in his gory insides. Betty still felt his blood clinging to her clothes and streaked in tangles of her blonde hair. But at that moment, Jason Blossom wasn't occupying her mind. He had been replaced by something equally horrifying. She didn't know whether to scream or run. In the end she ended up just standing there, staring at the two boys. Archie Andrews who looked pretty much good as new. He stood stiff in his bloodied jersey, his eyes on Jughead. Archie’s expression was a mixture of horror and relief as he gaped at Jughead Jones, who was still sitting on the floor looking beyond confused, and slightly horrified. He was still tenderly stroking the rapidly shrinking gun-shot wound in the middle of his forehead. Betty forced herself to look away, her heart in her throat. The three of them ended up gazing at each-other, as if waiting for the other to provide an explanation....

 

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked! Please leave kudos if you'd like more, and a comment- telling me you're reading! (Feedback is also good! It's spurs me on) :D

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I'm British and we didn't have Bill Nye when I was a kid. We had "BBC learn" and BILL NYE LOOKS SO MUCH BETTER - though ngl the intro is kinda hypnotising :P Leave kudos and a comment if you'd like more! I totally don't have the next bit typed up because I fell in love with this world (On the run from the government AND immortal Bughead/Varchie FTW) I'm not sure how this will be received, bc it's kinda gross? but yanno. Tell me what you think!


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